


Indecent Proposal

by lyl_i_am



Category: Amar a Muerte (TV), Juliantina - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Online Dating, F/F, One Night Stands, Sensual Play
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-30
Updated: 2020-06-09
Packaged: 2020-11-08 03:57:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20829035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lyl_i_am/pseuds/lyl_i_am
Summary: Meandering your way through online dating was never easy. Valentina, a beautiful stranger asked for an indecent proposal. Juliana, intrigued at the girl's boldness entertained the idea and agreed. Where would flirtation, experimentation and instant affections lead them to?





	1. The First Meeting

You weren’t the kind to play with fire, but you also weren’t the kind to say no, when the fire says play.

So one Saturday night, you gamed with the idea of entertainment she proposed and a table for two was set.

In you came with zero expectations and there she sat with subdued frustrations. You drank them in, surreptitiously, a glance over she saw coming. She straightened up, smoothed the crevices of her blouse, wrinkled with worry. You take off your jacket and creaked your neck in a stretch, a prefaced to the oncoming ordeal.

Greetings, pleasantries, and day-time stories exchanged—barely scratching the surface—and you both nodded, gamely and politely.

A picture was no justice to how the light glared on those baby blues, they were practically glowing—stupefying and obnoxiously blinding.

You wonder to yourself, how many have drowned in them and how many stories those blues harbored close to shore; she was telling you about her day and you feel like a boat, tossed in a sea of her words.

All images of the present were lost on you as your eyes waded through her face freely, distracted. You paid close attention, _tried_, reading her through those reddish plump lips that may have been chanting a murmured incantation for all you care. You subconsciously licked your lips and hers stopped moving; the abrupt tight-lip was jarring so you searched for the eyes and there she was, across the table, sending incendiary glances.

You flushed, face aflame; a heated flash coursed through your cheeks down to the rest of your body. Suddenly, you’re more intrigued now; you perked up and you noticed how her auburn locks compliment her porcelain face.

She saw your alertness, alarmed, she fumbled and recovered from tectonic trembling with a quick drown of her glass.

_Well that was cute._

An hour of precursory meal and finally she hitched, ‘I didn’t think you’d agree.’

‘Not entirely,’ you threaded your words carefully, ‘I agreed because I wanted to come, well…in more ways than one.’

You quipped and tested the water.

You didn’t think she’d blush as red as a stoplight.

You laughed and covered your almost lecherous tongue.

She stammered and you braced her arm, ‘Hey, I was just joking you know.’

She countered, feeling a little braver, ‘I don’t believe you are.’

You laughed heartily and this time she joined.

Not a moment too long, she said, ‘Let’s go elsewhere,’ and you both stood up instantly.

Elsewhere happened to be a bar next door, dimmed and dizzying with its strobe lights playing along to the blaring radio. At the front, some sort of a music show was going on, so you opted to the back, in a pretense of subdued silence.

A table for two was set, but instead of sitting across, she dragged her chair beside yours.

The blaring music and a pitcher of drinks soon drowned out the rest of the world.

She leaned closely and whispered, ‘I think you’re really pretty.’

A ripple of shiver coursed through your body and you know its pay back; she’s riling you up.

But those games she plays, you know the rules, you played them too, so you countered.

‘And I think you’re really sexy,’ you said the last word in a breathy huff.

The effect was instantaneous.

She bit her lips and her brows quirked in worry.

You looked away, letting her gather her thoughts and drank back your silent questions.

She slid a hand on your thigh, where your shorts stop and your exposed skin begins.

Her hand was warm, but the idling ember she stoked was hotter.

You gazed at the intruding hand and looked up to the smirking face.

You raised your brows, mildly scandalized, and tilted your head, as if daring her to do her worst.

All impish thoughts flashed through her eyes as she scraped the tips of her nails down to your thighs where you clamped them shut on instinct.

She laughed and withdrew her hand, ‘pervert,’ you jokingly accused.

She winked, ‘tease,’ and you know you lost this round.

A second pitcher came and now the words slur a bit and the world blurs a little.

Your body is buzzing and the laughs came easily and shrilly.

She was leaning her body on you now, flushed onto your front.

She was getting _handsy-er_ by the minute and you were getting riled up each moment.

But you don’t care a bit.

She craned her neck to say something, you leaned and she whispered, lips almost touching your ears, ‘I’ve never kissed a girl before.’

_Here we go._

‘Well what are you waiting for?’ you prompted with a slight reproach.

Without missing a beat, she cupped your face and throws a half-lidded look, a permission.

You gave a slight nod and she kissed you fully on the lips, a slow and shy approach; an attempt to rein in a maddening curiosity. 

She pulled away, just before you can kiss back.

You nearly pout.

She studied your face, tracing the slopes of your brows and the plane of your nose with her thumbs, sobering up as she outlines the peaks of your lips.

A hushed monologue was brewing and you were getting tired of waiting,

‘Out with it.’

‘I—I have a boyfriend,’ she said carefully.

‘I already know, does he though? I mean, know this?’ you wagged your index finger between you two.

She nodded, ‘He agreed to let me, uh, explore.’

A knot twisted beside yourself, you hated the word, _explore, _as if you’re something to be conquered, a conquest of some sort.

‘Hmph,’ you settled with tight-lip acknowledgement.

She reached for your hands for damage control and you let her.

‘I-uh, really like you and I’d love to get to know you _better_, if you’ll let me,’

You were already letting her get away with a lot tonight, why not one more?

You don’t bother dignifying that with an answer but instead grabbed the nape of her neck and pulled her in.

You kissed her roughly and with such fervor if only to convey the words at the forefront of your mind,

_It’ll cost you greatly._

She was taken aback yet soon comes her reply with a slip of a tongue,

_I know._

You both kissed in the night with eyes closed as if blinding a truth.

With each gasp and heave, the momentum rolls into an escalating want.

Your hands were wandering now, bolder by each squirm she makes.

You imagined, you both must look so indecent, but you don’t care a bit, no you don’t care.

She nipped at your lips and pulled away ever so slightly; she leaned her forehead with yours, brushing your lips with her fingers, caressing a sure bruise in the morning.

She stared at you, searching in your eyes for any hint of regret or disapproval, but you had none.

You do noticed however, how expressive her eyes were, screaming an internal struggle, perhaps with the sweltering need to have you.

You’d be a fool to not see the fiery connection between you two and that worries you a little.

_This will be a bitch later; I just hope it’s worth it._

She understands and pulled away, ‘I’ll make it worth your time, Juliana.’

You smiled a little, ‘I sure hope so, Valentina.’

And at that moment, you both kissed, with a languid and tender understanding.

You both sealed the deal of an indecent proposal; a night of sensual explorations and wanton experiments to quench her burning curiosity—with you as the test subject.

You weren’t the kind to play with fire, but you also weren’t the kind to say no, when the fire says play.

And like a moth attracted to the fire, you play on; because Valentina’s lusty looks and comely eyes, at that moment, were sure worth burning for.

.

.

.


	2. Occluded Front

You weren’t the kind to step out of line, but you also weren’t the kind to say no, when the line says to live on the edge.

So a second Saturday night comes and you sat at your side of the table, tiptoeing passed her without a single brush of skin. You slipped on the chair with unhurried grace you can summon, deliberate, and you felt her gaze traced the summit of your tresses down to the mound of your back, an asset that no jeans can hide and no lust can’t disguise.

Already, you can feel the mounting heat emanating across the table, but you keep a cool head—you keep to your side on the tactical table and she does her best on her end; hands clasped atop the surface and flaming blues fixed on yours.

You both agreed that some things needed to be addressed before _things_ can come undressed.

‘How would you like to start?’ you offered.

A little too cold for her liking, she miffed with a crinkle of the nose and a quick tut of her tongue, she said,

‘I know this isn’t the most conventional…’ she wrung her hands in uneasiness, a tick you already recognized,

‘but I want you to know, I will never do anything you’re not comfortable with.’

And she gave you that look, with her brows slightly upturned and her eyes glowing, her soft-spoken words floating in the air like wild fireflies—you know this is the kind of girl that can charm anything and anyone she wants.

Your eyes almost fluttered shut in a quick daze and you jerked your head, swatting away those lightning bugs threatening to land an allure on you.

‘Like what, Valentina?’ you countered with an icy tone.

She recognized the austerity and acknowledged the need for clarity for she sat up straight, the fireflies long gone now and took you full on in spite of your polarity.

She drew in a long breath and you watched the thick mist rise from the table below where your frosty upfront meets her scorching affront.

‘Juliana, just because I want to fuck you, it doesn’t mean I want to fuck you up.’

‘But what if I want you to?’ you quipped without missing a beat.

She shook her head and pinched the bridge of her nose, ‘You’re just, ugh!’

She looked heavenward and threaded a hand through her cascading locks, a frustrated storm brewing.

‘I’m serious Juliana, I don’t want you to feel like I’m using you.’

She leaned and reached across the table, her hand searing your arm, hoping to abate those lukewarm responses.

‘Do you understand?’

_Far deeply than you can imagine._

But you don’t say anything.

Instead, you matched her steady gaze and you think to yourself, have you seen eyes that talk? Or how about eyes that reads?

Because of all the stories you’ve seen, her cerulean eyes were the most expressive—it was screaming all the sorries in the world and singing all the praises in the universe for both of your forgiveness and approval.

She was searching within your hazel irises and there was an almost audible click, like the way you dial the last number on a combination lock and it opens, you let her in.

A mutual understanding for unspoken things that only eyes can convey was gained and an unwritten boundary was set, an occluded front to come next.

You pried her hand from your arm and tried the way her fingers feel onto yours, a silky glove that may never fit yours; so instead you brought it upon your cheek, where the divot and folds of her hands molded your chin.

You smile a little, just enough for those dimples to peek through.

‘I understand.’

You retracted her hand and gave it a small pat with a dash of sassy after-thought,

‘You can fuck me up, only with permission then.’

And almost instantly the mist lifted and she shook her head, hiding a ghost of a smile.

At Valentina’s behest, after a sumptuous meal—or being wined and dined if you will—you found yourself being dragged along into an art gallery.

She takes your hand onto hers and placed it at the small of her back; her own hand mirroring yours (though it’s constantly wandering below), formed a half embrace,

‘Don’t want you to get cold,’ she excused.

‘Uh huh,’ you can’t help but smirk.

She led the way through the first gallery where the walls were lined with various painting. It appears that she had been here before; she was offering a few details about some pieces and you were riveted and nodded along as you scrutinized each pieces.

You do appreciate the ornamental frame, enclosing those clean strokes of the brush, life-like images from a swirl of paint coming alive on its own from a canvas.

You concluded, ‘That’s a really pretty picture.’ 

‘Yeah…’ a breathy hum was all her response and for a brief moment you’ve forgotten about her little blurbs.

You peeled your sight from the painting and turned, you just noticed how Valentina had somehow wedged you into a corner where the lights were dimmer and no other patrons were around.

She placed a hand on the wall, just above your head, all the while her eyes never leaving your face. You knew she had long marked your lips since your first arrival, you only wondered how long will she last. And judging by the way she was licking her lips and inching forward, she was definitely on her breaking point.

‘Valentina, we’re in public.’ You reminded her, resting your hands on her hips, a futile attempt on your part.

But despite yourself, every fiber of your being was blown on full alert, dare you even say _excited _at the prospect. You knew those kisses seared a mark on you and all week, you were gripped with a sort of restlessness, a craving you can name but can’t say out loud.

Her breaths quickened, her head tilted yours and her lips met your mouth in a fury.

All at once, those meek visions you summoned all week faded into nothing as the plumpness of her lips and the sweetest taste of her kisses can never emulate the wild ideas of any land of dreams can materialize.

The shape of her lips, how they curl at the tips, and how soft and warm they feel, you can’t help but marvel and be weak at your knees.

She pulled away from the messy lip fray—eyes blown, slack jawed and breathing unhinged, you wonder if you both can make it pass the first floor of this three-story gallery.

‘Let’s get a move on,’ she panted and anchored you onto the next wave.

The second gallery consisted of a mishmash of West meets East oriental pieces; many artifacts from the Asian continent washed ashore, or pillaged from its rightful place, were encased along the long passage, row by rows, each grander than the other.

Your personal tour guide, although somewhat composed, seemed to have found ways to cop a feel at every chance; a rather juvenile act, you mused and snickered at her pursued cheap thrills.

You were very aware of Valentina’s presence; nothing about her move was accidental, from the way her fingers pointed at a relic to raking the nape of your neck, a fistful of hair being caressed. Or how she leaned and whispered, nibbling at your ears, a hissed of history laced with racy fantasy—she knew full well what she was doing and she was enjoying every bit of your slow undoing.

To her credit, you gave little to no protest at her salacious antics.

Nearing to the end of the corridor, a particular display caught your attention; it was an imposing piece, standing five feet high of an encased opulence of lacquered gold, gilded wood and incised metal fittings,

‘_Norimono_, a Japanese palanquin,’ she whispered.

The elaborate encasement was mounted high as if borne upon the shoulder of its carriers.

‘This particular palanquin must’ve come from the Edo period, probably used by a shogun’s wife, look inside.’

You peered closely to the glass case where you can see the interior better; the silk and tatami were embellished with oriental designs of pine tree, crane, tortoise and bamboo—an all auspicious symbols of the Far East.

You roamed your eyes towards the ceiling of the palanquin, trailing the intricate stitching when you suddenly felt your front slammed onto the glass.

She caught you unguarded and had you pinned, face first with your palms at your side, flat onto the surface, while your back arched and burned from the sensations of her chest rising and falling with rapid breaths.

She wasted no time in brushing away your loose tresses and nipped at every skin exposed from your now too-tight collar, starting from the cleft of your left shoulder to the nape of your neck until she sunk her teeth onto the skin behind your ear.

_Fuck._

You hissed and bit your lip to stifle a gasp.

She was kneading your shoulders with nimble hands and simultaneously peppering kisses where it can.

She was lapping at your neck now, making her way back to your shoulder when she abruptly pulled away.

_What the…_

Sounds of oncoming footsteps can be heard not too far away.

You closed your eyes and butted your forehead onto the glass, vexed.

You let out a harsh breath.

She folded her arms around you and left a chaste peck on your cheek, cuing that it’s time to go.

You followed, albeit begrudgingly and glared your best attempt at contempt.

‘Sorry,’ she offered a noncommittal shrug and whirled around towards the next flight of stairs.

You squeezed her hand in annoyance and scoffed under your breath,

‘There’s nothing sorry about that smug look on your face.’

You heard her giggle.

You replied with bitter laugh.

The third and final gallery was mostly barren, saved from a few tapestries here and there and some intricately weaved fabrics.

In all honesty, you were far too distracted to appreciate art at this point.

Valentina was chirping away, swaying your locked hands with a bounce on her feet, clearly having the best time of her life, while you kept mummed, trudging your feet and getting surlier by the minute.

If she had any inclination of your displeasure, she surely didn’t let on as she was sporting an impossibly wide beam that you just can’t wait to wipe off of her.

At nine o’clock, it was announced that the gallery was closing and thus, the tour had ended.

You both make your way out, by the sidewalk, Valentina shifted from one foot to the other, silently negotiating with herself how to proceed after.

You let her be and unclasped your hand from hers.

You hailed a cab and when it promptly skidded into a halt in front, you glanced over your shoulder.

Valentina was dawdling with her hands shoved deep in her pockets; her shoulders slumped, her forehead furrowed and nibbling on her bottom lip, her previous audacity had slipped away and she was left uncertain, visibly wondering if you were kicking her onto the curb and calling it a night.

You pressed a hand to your throat and clutched at your chest.

_What do I do with you?_

You jerked your head in the direction of the cab.

She takes the hint and you swore her whole face lit up.

_God this woman is unbelievably gorgeous._

Once inside, you gave the driver your address and on it went, the ride falling into a strained silence.

You watched her stirred; her sapphire eyes widened and flickered with concern.

You chuckled and rubbed your hands on her thighs, looming closer, you purred,

‘First time sharing a cab with a stranger?’ 

You smirked for good measure.

She rolled her eyes and added a haughty sway of her head,

‘As if!’

_Thump! Thump! Thump!_

The cab was in for a bumpy ride.

You clucked your tongue in mirth and finally took in the sight of her dress that clung taut onto her lithe and slender form. She was wearing a black deep v-neck dress that bared her clavicle and just the right amount of porcelain skin between the slopes of her chest.

_Mesmerizing._

The pace quickened, faster and faster, the driver weaving in and out of traffic.

You drew nearer and somehow you wound up planting wet kisses on those uncovered expanse of her dress, starting from the dip of her clavicle to the lump of her throat down to her prominent sternum.

She took in a sharp breath and exhaled unsavoury expletives.

You dared to steal a glance on her face, her lips puckered and her eyes screwed shut in a rearing urge.

Outside, the cab urged on, onward, always onward.

You put your hands to work as they seek out every slope and valley of her dress, in a pretense of ironing it out for her.

A steady steam was forming, clouding all wits and senses, while the ride carried on with its never-ending booms and bangs of the jarring road that deafens a wanton leer from an unwanted ear.

She was uncoiling at each squirm.

_Revenge is sweeter when served hot._

You mused and let the tip of your tongue glided within the boundaries of her v-shaped dress.

She was writhing now and everything was spiraling down in an uncontrollable weakness.

And on you continued to pass the time until some time had passed.

Alas, the noise gradually died down.

_Shh…shh…_

The ride came to a stop.

You smoothed the wrinkled dress and hiked down the riding hem.

She gaped at you with lidded eyes, heaving from the state of wrangled and tangled mess.

You clambered out of the cab and quickly flung the door shut.

She wound down the window in a wounded pout,

‘Can I—can I come?’

‘Not tonight, Valentina, not tonight.’

You left a chaste peck on her cheek and rapped at the door until the wheels began to spin and the pistons began to pump as you stared at her tragic beauty, driven out of your night and onto another week's plight.

_Not tonight._

_._

_._

_._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In a haze of my feverish state, I craved and caved to this write.  
Do pardon the unsightly errors, my eyes aren't good enough to spot them.
> 
> This was a draining write, I'll need some encouragement for the next bout. So please do let me know what you think, I'd love to hear your thoughts and comments!
> 
> Literary challenge: an attempt at free-verse poetry, analogy (I was watching the forecast for the weekend), simile, metaphors, puns and a slew of others. The main one being a sensual flirt edging around a smut (wait, is this considered smut?)
> 
> Anyway, thank you and hope you enjoyed the read.


	3. Don’t Beg the Sun to Fall

You weren’t the kind to fly too close to the sun, but you also weren’t the kind to say no, when the sun says rise.

It was one of those Saturday afternoons when the grass grows greener, the morning glory strikes its bluest buds and the honeysuckles flaunt its sweetest bloom; there she sat idly on a park bench amidst them, reveling in the sun’s warm caress like a distant dream.

From afar, the world seems to burst with vivid colours around her and silently you wonder, how badly can she paint yours? Or rather, how badly can you mar that pure canvas of curiosity?

You contemplated your hastily drawn boundaries and resolved to abide by it today—

_Keep it together Juliana!_

A mantra you tell yourself as your coloured thoughts mix itself into a mess of rainbow.

The wind swayed, scattering petals of marigolds and bits of dahlias and along it carried a voice calling out your name to life—

‘Juliana!’

And she came to you in waves, with a silent pride of sheer magnitude, elegant yet tenacious in her approach that always leaves you drowning without a buoy back ashore.

‘Hey,’ she stopped just a stone’s throw away, both hands clasped behind her back, teetering from one foot to another and a light bounce on her heels.

You looked at each other for some time in silence; a budding blush flowering on your cheeks, you’re already out of breath.

‘Hi,’ was all you can muster.

‘You ok?’ she asked, stooping a little bit closer.

You answered with a lop-sided grin and a glinting squint, looking up to her as if the sun’s in your eyes—because everything about her today was blinding.

If you thought traipsing around her under the moon’s penumbra, murmuring sweet nothings in the wind was already too much, nothing could have prepared you for the stark daylight that bared the remarkable character of her face.

You studied her large eyes, liquid and luminous; plump pastel lips of surprisingly beautiful curve and her chestnut hair of silk-like softness and tenuity made up altogether a countenance not easily to be forgotten in a week.

_It’s not even fair._

You can feel your resolve dissolving and your defenses senseless.

You ducked your head in slight annoyance and gave a playful wave of a hand.

You started,

‘Valentina, do you really go for walks _like that_?’

Her forehead creased and her mouth fell open; a flash of confusion washed over her as she gave herself a glance-over.

‘Wha-why? What’s wrong with _this_?’ she flourished her hands by her sides, accentuating her outfit.

She was wearing a red checkered tunic hugged by a wide belt on the waist, combined with a black mini-skirt that emphasized her long slender legs half hidden by suede knee high-heeled boots.

‘Yeah no, girl you don’t look ready for a walk.’

She looked at you in disbelief and gave you a glance-over, her mouth quickly twisting in a knowing grin.

‘Nah uh,’ she shook her head, ‘don’t pin this on me, it’s not my fault you came looking _like that_!’

_That_ by very definition was a faded off-blue long-sleeved blouse, matched with dark blue denims and powdered blue converse.

You rolled your eyes and clacked your tongue in dignified defiance but your cheeks gave way to an unmistakable abashed flush.

‘But you said we were going for a walk! Besides it was so last minute, I was rushing and I had to like run and-and you didn’t give me enough time!’

Practicality was never an issue before, but somehow today it seemed to be, you know you’re whining now and that extra inch of her boots was not helping at all.

She’s laughing in that airy voice and you can’t help but glowered.

‘Ok sorry, sorry,’ she offered.

You looked away and scuffed your runners.

_Great._

She pulled you in with a wide swept of her arms and your face was buried in her silky tresses.

She smelled like jasmine and strawberries—how stupidly intoxicating.

‘Oh don’t pout Juliana, I still think you’re gorgeous.’

_Just freaking great._

She was in a rather pleasant mood, seemingly content and you remarked how you felt equally serene as you both walked along the edge of the pond slowly, side by side with her arm hooked upon yours and the afternoon heat on your backs.

You credited the sun for the subdued affair; a change that you both appeared to be processing in silence. It is as if your sense of modesty clothed itself shy in broad daylight—the usual night-time innuendos were exchanged for friendly banters and the unchaste touches were more affectionate and courtly.

It was a nice change of pace, slow and leisurely—_almos_t like a first date.

‘You know, I don’t think I know much about you Juliana,’ you scarcely heard it as you were occupied by her thumb idly swirling the back of your hand.

She stopped and pulled you to face her squarely by the crook of your arms.

‘Come, tell me something about yourself.’

Her voice was heavy with curiosity and her features, expectant and inviting.

‘What do you want to know?’

‘Well, many things, like what are your hobbies, what are you passionate about and what do you do for work, stuff like that!’

Her lips were pressed tight in a quiet yet her eyes were fluttering in fray of disquiet; you knew she rehearsed this conversation before.

You paused in contemplation and hummed to draw out a response.

‘I like to draw sketches and I’m really interested in fashion, can you tell?’

You motioned your hands to emphasize your practical outfit.

‘Oh you’ve got plenty of style for sure!’ she giggled.

You continued, ‘I also work with a lot of under privileged kids at a local community center as a counsellor and seamstress vocational teacher. I figured it’s a lot easier to teach kids at an early age than to patch up broken adults.’

‘That’s quite admirable, Juliana.’

As she spoke, you encountered her eyes and saw how well the expression of earnest observation diffused over her face. You turned away as you could no longer bear the study of her gaze.

‘Thanks,’ you deflected, ‘how about you?’

She looped her arm around yours and tugged it along as you walked on by the edge of the pond, where the ducks waded, baited by an old lady’s clumsily thrown bread crumbs.

She smiled at the sight.

‘I work at a rehab center as a psychologist, so counselling is something we seem to have in common. While you sew a better future with kids, I help mend and thread the past seams of adults in stitches.’

At this, to your utter amazement, your spirits were affected; you careened to the side as to get a better view of her face and as you stared, your affections grew strangely in her stature and intelligence.

‘Wow, impressive!’

Your astonishment solicited a bashful smile and she ducked her head in a humbled gratitude.

‘It’s a labour of love really, I’m sure you can attest to that. Some days are tough, some days are gratifying.’

Your curiosity piqued, ‘What made you pursue it?’

She coloured and with an absent swiped of her nose, she considered in a brief silence.

‘I mostly deal with people with substance abuse; you’re right, it’s hard to fix broken adult and I know I’ll never be able to mend them whole, but at the very least, I want to help them patch up the broken little pieces they have to make themselves somewhat whole again.’

She spoke well, but there were feelings besides those words to be detailed. You remarked the visible somber luster of her eyes.

She went on, ‘I think it’s so easy for people to forget how to be compassionate when it doesn’t affect you directly.’

Oh how strange indeed was your rapid increase of fascination—but disastrous—with the combination of your tumultuous thoughts that crowded upon you while watching the development of her beautiful mind.

‘And how directly does this affect you, Valentina?’

As you said this, it became evident to your enthralled senses that your preconceived perceptions (of her) trembled to receive it; and you wondered, in a fearful and stirring nature, how wondrous was the shift of your potent attraction to pure admiration; it isn’t often you come across a woman with such great prowess in both beauty and mind.

She was struggling for the appearance of composure and didn’t open her lips until she believed her words will flow itself in a calm-like manner.

‘I—I understand them…’ she paused in subdued recollections.

‘I know what it feels like, the isolation and the loneliness; that need to consume to numb your sufferings until your suffering consumes and numbs you.’

You watched her intently as the lessons of experience, wisdom and passions of maturity fell from her lips and the fierceness of resistance with which she wrestled, gleamed with the brilliance of her wits.

It is often said we comfort people with words that we wished someone would tell us, but at that moment, words eluded you.

Instead, you soothed with the warmth of your embrace and that child-like confidence (that was sewn onto you), to relay the support and empathy of the hardships of guidance through the chaotic world.

Here you realized, as your thoughts fell back upon your own childhood misfortunes and afflictions, that she’s just like you—shielding others from the scrutiny of the world and whose destiny and life ambitions mirrored your own and in consequent compelled you to adore, _because lonely people recognize loneliness from other people._

_._

_._

_._


	4. Moonlit Persuasions

You weren’t the kind to be so easily over the moon, but you also weren’t the kind to say no, when the moon says jump over.

They say you can’t hate a person whose story you know and from the way Valentina was offering hers, you know you can never hate her. For long hours while holding your hand, she spoke of matters overflowing with passionate devotion to her altruistic affairs. And at times, her eyes sparked with excitement and melancholy, bursting of stories unspoken yet hinted in the way her blue irises dilates and shrinks at a gaze.

You learned the profound satisfaction from her storytelling and despite the glossed mention of her past hurts, you thirsted for hearing it. You almost envy her even; how bravely she opened up and offered herself in piecemeal. You, on the other hand, can’t help but feel like an inexperienced feeler beside her since you were never good at telling your own.

You imagined you must have been composed entirely of some contrived internal monologue whose mouth was solely used for decorations; you smiled, pursed your lips, quivered and puckered as you nodded attentively, and gobbled up her words if only it’ll lessen her burdens.

However much time had passed, you can hardly recall since time always had a funny way of standing still and flying by all at once whenever she’s around. But of course, the sun is setting now; low and stretching thin over the horizon, in hues of red, yellow and orange, bowing out in its dramatic display of colours.

And as the day comes to a close with dusk in her eyes, a silence hovered over her and you watched the moon glowed in the afterlight of sunset upon her face.

You weren’t the kind who’s easily stirred by likeness of Selene’s smile—a perfect crescent—but as your mind slurred and your heartbeat whirred, a knowing twilight eclipsed within, incessant and loud, wondering, _will you wish from someone else’s star or bow down to a moon with a lasso already present?_

‘Juls, can we be friends?’

Her exact words; you stammered—being friends weren’t exactly what you had in mind and while it didn’t seem such a bad idea, all in all, in view of the steps you would _not _have to take, the thought itself posed as a pleasant trouble.

‘Val I—,’ whatever those words were or might have been, you left them scattered in the wind in bits and pieces with a single slow blink of the eyes and a resigned sigh like snuffing a candle out that persistently lit aflame.

You struggled to put your thoughts into words so instead settled with, ‘why?’

This was not an encouraging opening for a conversation.

‘Well, why not?’ Valentina replied, rather shyly, ‘I don’t see why we can’t be friends…at the very least.’

Her lips were pressed tight, dejected, and her eyes fluttered, rejected; you knew this was not where she imagined the scenario would go.

‘You want to be friends, Valentina? Is that really what you want?’

‘Wait, you don’t want to?’

‘No.’

You watched her face dropped and her shoulders slumped; she drew her hands from yours, bit the inside of her cheeks and picked at her nails gloomily.

She could think of nothing better to say than, ‘Oh.’

What a curious thing; you felt puzzled and afflicted as if you also snuffed away the little spark in her eyes, setting her moon in abrupt.

You retracted, ‘I mean…you wouldn’t want to be friends with me.’

‘And why not?’ she snapped, it’s her turn to ask.

‘Valentina,’

You fell silent for a minute while thinking over all the viable reasons to reject her yet another proposal.

_‘Cause in these games we play, the first one to fall is the losing dame._

You sighed, ‘Look Val, I—I just don’t think it’s a good idea.’

‘But why not! You’re not like a serial killer or something!’

‘No, of course not,’ you considered a little as you fixed her a stern gaze, ‘…but my dad is.’

She replied with a blank look, and at this you simply laughed at her stupefied expression.

She gave you a painful shove to which you replied with a quick embrace.

‘I’m just joking?’

‘You’re an ass Juliana.’

An indefinite sense of relief, which at first sight of her frowning face and smiling at the next, had taken hold of you. You knew you’d do anything to keep that smile on her.

Still, you were unwilling to trust yourself with her friendship and therefore thought proper to contrive your bubbling want into a hold.

‘But seriously, Val, friends don’t kiss each other on the lips.'

A silence fell over her.

‘Friends with benefits does.’

In her disordered fancy, the idea had assumed a more daring character, under certain conditions, almost felt trespassed but all too excruciatingly enticing nonetheless.

_What’s the worst that can happen, really?_

You lack words to express the full extent, or the earnest abandon of her persuasion, for your mind was already losing a fretful battle and that greedy part of you was winning.

The conditions of your affair, you imagined, was an onslaught of ongoing compromise for you both insists to draw your lines in pen, pretending it’s pencil.

Staggering as far as aft as you could, you waited fearlessly the ruin that was to overwhelm your defenses and you’re both back to negotiating that boundary once again.

With a weary mind and a greedy heart, you accepted.

‘Friends with benefits it is.’

.

.

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Terribly sorry for the long wait! It's taken quite a while to get back on this narrative tone and I hope it doesn't sound too choppy..heh
> 
> I really missed this story and just remembered how much more challenging it is to write concisely!
> 
> Literary challenges: free-verse poetry, title as theme, moon-related word bank, 1k narrative brevity, etc.
> 
> I hope you enjoy the read and do let me know what you think! I could really use the encouragement :)

**Author's Note:**

> An experimental and indulgent write; wasn't meant to be shared, but here we are.
> 
> Literary device challenge: 2nd person narration.
> 
> Do leave a comment, I'd like to know your thoughts as I haven't quite made up my mind with this.


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